


Satinalia - Memories

by GingerBreton



Series: The Theirins: The post-blight antics of King Alistair and Queen Ysabelle (here be fluff) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Memories, Retrospective, Satinalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 05:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16989156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerBreton/pseuds/GingerBreton
Summary: For the Satinalia 2018 prompt - MemoriesAlistair remembers his first two Satinalias with Ysabelle.





	Satinalia - Memories

The snow was falling thickly that Satinalia eve, large flakes drifting lazily past the palace’s large windows. As soon as snow started to fall, Alistair knew exactly where he could find his queen. Ysabelle would be curled up on the window seat in the library, a hot drink warming her hands, watching the blanket of snow settle over Denerim. The view from there was unrivalled. You could see right across the city and out across the Drakon river valley. He had never used to share her pleasure in the weather turning colder, it had always reminded him of cold nights sleeping in the stables at Redcliffe as a child. Once, when he’d asked her why she loved it so much, she’d explained that she thought it was beautiful, and after all they had been through she didn’t ever want to stop seeing beauty in the world. 

It had been two years since they had stopped the Blight, and this would be their third Satinalia together and it still felt like they were just getting used to life here in the palace. Alistair still found himself getting lost and finding new parts of the castle, much to the barely hidden amusement of the serving staff. But this was how he had discovered the library and it had become Izzy’s favourite spot, and he could put up with a little ribbing from the servants if it meant making his wife happy. 

As he crept around the library door, he could see her curled up in her usual spot, facing away from the door. The windows were frosting up already, and she was absentmindedly tracing patterns on the panes. He leant himself up against a bookcase and watched her, absorbed in that perfect quiet moment. 

\--

Their first Satinalia together had been very different. It hadn’t been long after their return to Ostagar and Alistair’s heart had been heavy. They had laid his brother to rest, but the visit had rehashed old wounds and he had brooded deeply in the following days. When the first snow had started to fall they had been making their way through the pine forests, back up the Imperial highway. He had begun to grumble out loud about his distaste for winter. 

Their relationship was still new back then, more tentative than their friendship had been, and she had given him room to grieve again over Ostagar. After all, she had not seen the battle the way he had and he had snapped at her for it the day before. Alistair couldn’t imagine purposefully distancing himself from her now. What a fool he’d been back then. 

He had barely begun to utter the words of complaint before he caught a glimpse of her face. She was staring up into the sky, a smile tugging at her lips, and once the first flake landed on her nose, drawing forth a giggle, he melted. Two days of bad tempers and heads being bitten off were gone in a second. 

She’d noticed him looking at her, and the smile that had been hinted at before, broke into a broad grin.

“What?”

“I don’t know how you can possibly enjoy this?” he’d gestured broadly around and attempted to reinstate his best grumpy face. 

Ysabelle knew him too well for that. Catching his hand in hers, she dragged him over to stand pressed at her side and intertwined her fingers with his. He’d stared down at her, breath caught in his throat, eyes tracing the features he was determined to learn by heart. He’d barely memorised the deep blue hidden within the green of her eyes before she drew his attention away and pointed to the sky. He had, of course, obediently looked up. A cunning ploy it turned out. She had taken the opportunity to stand on tiptoes and press a kiss just below his ear, making him squirm in protest.

“That’s cheat—” she’d cut him off with another kiss, this time pressed gently to his lips.

Even once camp had been set up that night, and their companions had slipped off to bed, they had sat out huddled in furs watched the snowflakes drift down. 

“Happy Satinalia, Ali,” she’d whispered to him, her head resting on his shoulder, her eyes heavy with sleep. 

Cold noses, red cheeks and warm smiles had held his sadness at bay that day. 

\--

On their second Satinalia together they had been newly-weds. The palace was unlike anything they had known growing up. Ysabelle had grown up in the back alleys of Denerim, and Alistair in the servants’ quarters of Redcliffe, when he wasn’t relegated to the stables. The palace that Satinalia had been like something from a fairy tale, the kind neither of them had particularly believed in as children. It had been so odd to feel out of place in what is supposed to be your own home. 

As it was their first Satinalia at the palace, Arl Eamon and his wife had insisted on taking charge of the arrangements. They wouldn’t take no for an answer, despite the Theirin’s desperate attempts to dissuade them. Everywhere Alistair had turned in the castle was adorned with opulent decorations. He and Ysabelle had stared in wonder as the servants had strung garlands as far as the eye could see, set sprigs of holly on every picture and hung intricate glass baubles from the massive tree. They had never seen anything so beautiful…or expense. 

It had been Satinalia morning when his wife had heard about the vast amount of food being prepared for the feast. As soon as did, she had come to him.

“Ali, I had a thought…” she had fidgeted, obviously unsure of how he would respond. 

“What is it, my love?” he’d gently taken her hands in his and smiled down at her. Alistair knew that whatever she wanted, he would give to her, he’d give his new bride the world if she asked. 

“Have you seen how much food they’re preparing? We could feed half of Denerim…”

And that was the point, wasn’t it. 

“You want to give it away, don’t you?” He wasn’t sure if he could love her any more if he tried, but he could understand her trepidation. This would not go down well with Eamon. 

“I think we might be about the commit the ultimate noble faux pas.” An impish gleam was in her eye. 

“Just wait ‘til they hear about this one in Orlais,” he laughed. 

“Uck! Zoze deesgusting Dog Lords!” Her Orlesian accent was getting better with practice, though he’d made her promise not to use it in front of the Orlesian ambassador. No matter how rude he was. 

And so, it was decided. Eamon and Isolde had looked on in a mixture of anger and disgust as Alistair and Ysabelle had trudged through the snow with the kitchen staff, down into the Denerim’s marketplace. Alistair didn’t know which of his wife’s old contacts she had spoken with, but the square was teeming with people when they arrived. Even the inhabitants of the alienage had ventured out to take advantage of their offer. A polite nod from a familiar red-headed elf let him know who had had a hand in it. Alistair hadn’t seen Shianni since the siege of Denerim, but evidently from the smile on his wife’s face, she still kept in touch. They laid out enough food to cover all the empty market stalls. Ysabelle hadn’t been wrong, there really was enough food here to feed half the city. 

It was the most welcoming that Alistair had ever seen Denerim, like something from a story. Children were having snowball fights and spontaneous bouts of carolling echoed around the marketplace, as residents stood around talking as they ate. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes he wouldn’t have believed it. 

Cloaks wrapped around them to protect against the steadily falling snow, Ali and Ysabelle leant against the Chantry wall and watched proceedings. It was so strange to think that this was the place where he’d met her less than two years before, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders he would never have expected to find himself here again, but under such different circumstances. 

They had stayed there in the cold, irrepressible smiles on their faces, until the very last person had headed back to their home and night had truly fallen. It had been a beautiful day, and it was followed by a glorious evening of warming each other up by the fire.

\--

Alistair smiled as his reveries released him. Ysabelle had turned from the window and was now watching him, with the same light in her eyes as when she marvelled at the snow. 

“I thought I’d lost you for a minute there, love.” She smiled indulgently at him, before uncurling herself from the window seat and wrapping her arms around him. 

“I was just thinking how much things have changed over the last few years…” He closed his eyes as she ghosted kisses along his jaw. 

“Good memories?” she hummed, running her fingers through his hair. 

“Better every year.”

The snow continued to fall heavily, as the young royals watched the blanket thicken across the city. It was going to be another beautiful Satinalia.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for indulging in reading my fluff. It's not my usual genre but Christmas must have got me!
> 
> If you enjoyed Alistair & Ysabelle please have a read of my long fic 'The Time For Vigilance Is Over'.


End file.
